


The Needs of the People

by afterandalasia



Category: Aladdin (1992), Aladdin: The Animated Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Community: disney_kink, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Sex as a Bargaining Chip, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2018-06-03 05:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6598615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. When Mozenrath offers a deal, Jasmine accepts, and is determined to twist it to her advantage as best she can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Needs of the People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [batmarg](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=batmarg).



> From the [prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/361.html?thread=395625#t395625) at the Disney Kink Meme.

"I was raised a Princess, Aladdin. And a Princess knows that the needs of the people outweigh her own."  
  
She does it with such grace. Part of him wants to be angry at her for it, angry at how calmly she takes the extended, gloved hand. But he cannot be, and cannot stop her, and Aladdin falls to his knees before the Palace gates as they close on him.  
  
 _"You drive a hard bargain, Princess."  
  
"Did you expect anything less?"  
  
He smirks. How can he stand there and smirk at a moment like this? "Of course not."_  
  
She dresses in red; she does not want to sully the memory of any of her other clothes. She had only kept these so that if she ever needed to feel the burn of anger, she could look upon them again. Now she slips the golden serpent around her arm and places the old earrings into her ears.  
  
Mozenrath is not sitting on the throne; he stalks along the balcony, looking out over the city he has captured. Jasmine tries not to think of how many occupy the dungeon chains: Genie and Carpet trapped by magic; Abu, Rajah and her father by more traditional means. She knows that Aladdin will be joining them before too long - if Mozenrath allows him to live. He has not agreed to that yet.  
  
He turns as she enters. "Ah, Princess."  
  
"My name is Jasmine," she says coolly. The corner of his mouth twitches in amusement.  
  
"Indeed." He stands, hands folded behind his back, and regards her with a dark-eyed stare. She keeps her back straight and meets his gaze with all of the arrogance that she can muster. "Come here."  
  
"I said that you could have my body, in return for the safety of the city."  
  
"Yes. And it was very precisely phrased, _Jasmine_." He rolls her name on his tongue as if he is tasting it. "Because there is so much more bargaining room left. For example, if you _come here_ , I will agree to let... the monkey live."  
  
She clenches her hands slowly into fists, tilts her chin up a little higher, and walks towards him as if she is walking to the gallows. He shakes his head in disappointment and waves for her to stop. "No, no. Come here... nicely."  
  
"That wasn't part of the bargain."  
  
"You are allowed to change your demands and agreements, Princess, and I am allowed to change mine. Come here, nicely, and I will let the monkey live."  
  
For a moment she pauses, breathing deeply, then draws deep on how she once walked before Jafar. With a toss of her hair, she sashays towards him, hips swinging like a pendant in the breeze, and his smile broadens. She can see, though, that what is in his eyes is not what was in Jafar's: Jafar wanted love, or at least submission. Mozenrath is enjoying the anger in her eyes.  
  
They come to stand face to face; he is not truly all that much taller than her, nor much stronger, for though she is slender there is power in her muscles. But then she remembers the gauntlet on his hand, and how easily he could crush her if he thought to do so.  
  
"Get on your knees," he says.  
  
She takes a step back, and lowers herself to her knees slowly, gracefully. Her legs shake, but it is with anger. He stands over her, smirking, then reaches round to loosen the belt on his trousers. His skin is pale; clearly even in Agrabah he has not been willing to go out into the sun. Jasmine suppresses the urge to curl her lip in disdain as he reveals his penis, just in the first stages of arousal, flushed and slightly proud of his balls. Curls of dark hair surround it.  
  
She does not wait for his next instruction. "I know what you want me to do," she says.  
  
"Hmm." One finger curls through her hair, tugging a lock from her ponytail, and his fingers brush against her cheekbone. "And your response is to be?"  
  
Now she allows herself to sneer.  
  
"A payment, then," suggests Mozenrath. "You already have the monkey... perhaps the guards? Yes, for this I shall allow your guards to live. Even make them free, if they agree to bow to my order. Take me into your mouth and they shall live; look as if you are enjoying it, and I will give them the chance to go free."  
  
The sneer disappears as she considers for a moment. It is not so bad as she might have thought it could be, although again it is a struggle to restrain her disgust. "My father as well," she replies.

He chuckles, and she thinks how close her teeth are to his exposed flesh. "Bargaining still... very well, Princess. The same deal to him also."  
  
It is beyond her to reply, but she nods, and he settles his silk pants lower on his hips as she tosses her hair back as she leans closer. If she looks solely on his cock, she can forget who it is that it is attached to. She wraps her hand around him, finding his flesh softer and warmer than she had expected, and draws one long stroke along him.  
  
"Lick your hand," says Mozenrath, a little breathier already.   
  
She manages not to shudder at his voice, and spits into her palm instead. When she takes his shaft into her now-slick hand, he gives a contented sigh and she cannot bring herself to look up. It might have been more satisfying at least if she could have called it small, but he is quite respectable, and as she works him in her hand his penis swells and stiffens, standing almost perpendicular to his thighs.  
  
It isn't hard to guess what his next command would be, and before he can give it she leans in and runs the flat of her tongue over the head of his cock, flicking with the tip. He hitches a breath and wonders, for one wicked moment, whether she might have more power than she had thought. But then his hand winds into her hair even as she closes her mouth around him, and the thought is gone once again. She closes her eyes and laps her tongue against the head of his cock, wondering only how fast she could end this.  
  
"Remember our deal, Princess," comes the voice from above her. "If you want them to go free..."  
  
She makes herself moan. The vibrations go through her mouth and he gives a groan of his own, gloved hand tightening in her hair. It feels as if static is going down her spine. Forcing her eyes open, she traps him between her tongue and the roof of her mouth and takes him in and out, steadily even as she grows breathless and he hitches his breath above her. A whimpering sound comes from her lips involuntarily, but he is already thrusting in shallow movements into her mouth and she thinks that he just might be close.  
  
The hand in her hair, though, tugs her away, and she draws back, saliva still dripping on her lips as she looks up in some surprise. Mozenrath's usually pale cheeks are flushed, his turban knocked askew. "Touch yourself," he says, and it catches her utterly by surprise.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I want to see you touch yourself."  
  
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and sits back onto her heels, regarding him with mixed wariness and disdain. "Is it so hard to find a woman to share your bed? Or do you have to cast your magic on them all, so that you never get to see one?"  
  
He raises his hand as if he is about to strike her, then seems to remember their deal and slowly draws it back to his chest. "Does it matter to you? I do not see why it should. Lie on your back, and touch yourself, and... yes, I believe that allowing the people of Agrabah to live would be next in the deal. Your pleasure for your peoples' lives, princess... why, it is almost as if you win in either case."  
  
Bile almost rises in her throat, but she reaches up to undo her top, exposing her breasts to the air. Immediately his eyes fall upon them greedily, as she runs her hands around their curves and then pinches her nipples between her fingertips. She does not even need to smile, not whilst he is not looking at her face, and as her hands move down to remove her pants his gaze simply follows.  
  
It is night time, and the marble floor has grown cool as she lowers herself back on to it, parting her legs and bending her knees, running her hands down her thighs. The tilt of her head means that she is looking up at the ceiling, but when she hears Mozenrath move she looks round sharply, only to find him kneeling between her legs. She almost shies away, but he looks at her with undisguised lust.  
  
"Please," he says, and despite herself she feels warmth between her thighs.  
  
She props herself on one elbow as she reaches down with the other hand, running her fingers lightly over her sex, barely parting the hair to brush against the skin beneath. Mozenrath watches, entranced, as she traces her own skin with her fingers, spreading the slickness of her juices, then starts to draw circles around her clit.

Years cloistered in the palace have taught her, if nothing else, how to find her own pleasure. She gasps as her cool fingers toy with her skin, circles that wax and wane in pressure and send small shivers through her body. She tilts her head back with another soft moan, each breath becoming heavier and placed at a counterpoint to Mozenrath's breathless panting. She tilts her hand down and slides two fingers into herself, her wetness making it so easy, pressing in as deep as she can to feel that spot inside where the massage of her fingertips feels its best. The palm of her hand grinds against her, and her juices smear on her thighs as she fucks herself as deep as she can with her own hand.  
  
Suddenly there is a mouth on her, and she almost screams and draws away, but then she realises that Mozenrath is sucking on her skin, drinking in the taste of her, and in spite of herself she cannot help but be still more turned on. His breath is hot and desperate and his tongue is artless, but he can follow the noises that she makes and presses his attention to her clitoris even as she reaches deeper.  
  
"Come for me," he whispers against her skin, and his hands squeeze her thighs. "Let me taste you."  
  
And she does, with a whimpering cry, feeling her muscles clench around her fingers and a fresh warm rush over her skin. Mozenrath groans and draws her fingers out to take them into his mouth, sucking hard as his tongue licks them clean.  
  
She is still trembling, weak from the waves of pleasure that have not quite finished washing over her, as he presses her legs up higher and dips one hand beneath her thighs, sweeping her wetness onto his fingers and then slicking it across his still-hard cock. When he enters her, part of her wants to fight, but the other part welcomes the fullness, reaching where her fingers cannot. Her legs wrapped around his waist, she tilts her hips up to him as he fucks her, slow just for the first short while then quickly becoming faster, harder, hands planted against the ground as his hips pound into her. She is still tender with her climax, and every move makes her gasp and twist beneath him, not sure whether she is trying to pull away or draw him further in. Small incoherent sounds escape her as he draws to his own climax, drawing out just at the last moment to come in hot white streaks across her belly and her ribs.  
  
They lie there for a moment, panting, the world patchy with darkness and colours and heat tingling down their bodies. Then Mozenrath pulls away, rising first to his knees and then to his feet, shaking as he straightens his clothes and tries to catch his breath. Jasmine looks up at him from the floor, then comes to her senses and feels her nakedness; disgust washes over her and she almost goes to grab for her clothes, before changing her mind and looking at him haughtily once again. "My Kingdom?" she asks, holding her voice as steady as she is able.  
  
"Yours again, Princess," Mozenrath replies.  
  
Then in a swirl of his cloak he is gone, and the throne room falls silent once again. She pauses for a moment, then takes one of the curtains to wrap herself in rather than wear the red clothes once again. Laughter echoes in her ears, and she glances over her shoulder, but surely, now, he is gone.  
  
And Agrabah is freed once again.


End file.
